


Incarnadine

by Ritornella



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Coat Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Other, barlyle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 01:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13870377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ritornella/pseuds/Ritornella
Summary: The coat. Phillip picked it up almost reverently and hung it back on the wooden peg. The folds fell smoothly into place, not a wrinkle lingering in the sleek material. He let his hand linger, stroking one lustrous arm. He couldn't count the number of times he'd imagined taking it off of its owner, peeling away each layer of clothing to reach the responsive skin underneath. Yes, he'd had many thoughts centered around the owner of this coat over the past year. After taking a quick glance over his shoulder to check that nobody was watching, Phillip snatched the coat from its hanger and folded it into his satchel.





	Incarnadine

It was mid-April and the Lind Tour was in Cincinnati for four nights. All the shows had sold out, drawing huge crowds eager to experience the operatic phenomenon. Word had it that tickets were so in demand that Barnum was auctioning them off to the highest bidder. With that sort of exponential profit, Barnum's grand speculation would pay for itself far sooner than ever predicted. Phillip didn't know whether he was surprised or impressed -- most likely some of both, which was rapidly becoming his reaction of choice when PT's ideas panned out. This did not make the oppressive feeling in his chest dissipate. If anything, it grew even heavier at the thought of the inevitable request for more tour dates, more months away from New York. More months away from the circus.

Phillip was running the circus as best he could -- he even dared to say it was going well. Attendance was keeping steady and the troupe was stepping up to the challenge of creating newer, flashier acts. There was still the sense, however, that they were merely treading water. The spark that ignited this house of a million lights was away, and his mind's eye was continually drawn to the sooty halo it left behind. With a sigh, he put down the newspaper and reached for his coat, preparing to lock up the office for the evening. 

Collecting his satchel and hat, Phillip leaned over to blow out the last remaining candle in the room. A glint of red stopped him. The coat -- _his_ coat -- had slipped off the rack when Phillip was getting dressed. It lay in a heap on the floor, the sheen of the fabric reflecting the candle's flickering light. He could not help recalling nights past when the light of thousands of candles had shone down, creating a ruby-like glow that seemed to emanate directly from the man wearing it. He would watch from behind the curtain as the ringmaster cavorted around the arena with motions both precise and fluid. The powerful grace of the man always stole his breath and riveted his gaze; the strong broad lines of his upper back lovingly accentuated by the coat's close-cut fit. 

 _The coat_. Phillip picked it up almost reverently and hung it back on the wooden peg. The folds fell smoothly into place, not a wrinkle lingering in the sleek material. He let his hand linger, stroking one lustrous arm. He couldn't count the number of times he'd imagined taking it off of its owner, peeling away each layer of clothing to reach the responsive skin underneath. Yes, he'd had many thoughts centered around the owner of this coat over the past year. After taking a quick glance over his shoulder to check that nobody was watching, Phillip snatched the coat from its hanger and folded it into his satchel. 

Back in his hotel room and changed into his dressing gown, Phillip finally dared to open the satchel again. He carefully removed his clandestine treasure and gave it a gentle shake to restore its drape. He brought it closer to his face, admiring the glossy weave. Cashmere and silk, he noted with a quirk of his lips. Of course Phineas would choose one of the most opulent fabrics available to make his own costume -- his particular background had taught him the unequivocal value of a finely tailored appearance, while his exhibitionist tendencies demanded the grandest of presentations. Barnum knew perfectly well that he would stand out, no matter where he stood, in this garment. 

Hesitantly, Phillip brought the coat even closer to his face, finally allowing himself to bury his nose in the back collar. The collar, often seen nestled in the curls at the nape of Barnum's neck, still held the faint fragrance of cologne and sweat in its padded lining. He took a deep breath of that beguiling scent and rubbed his cheek against it, his mind finally free to imagine himself kissing that neck, nipping along that rugged jawline with the scratch of stubble against his lips, feeling rather than hearing the rumble of approval coming from a lover's throat. Another thought occurred to him and he hurriedly removed his dressing gown. 

Turning the coat around, Phillip slipped into its embrace and felt the muscular arms of its owner wrapped securely around him. He felt the bottom hem brush the backs of his calves, several inches below where it would hit on Barnum's legs. He'd be lying if he didn't admit to admiring those robust legs as well, encased in supple black leather field boots and handsomely displayed in tight riding breeches. Phillip's pulse quickened as his mental inventory advanced upwards, presenting him with carefully catalogued recollections of a taut, perfectly filled-out posterior. These were mostly gleaned from the many times that Barnum would rush into their office to change into costume while Phillip pretended to peruse their ever-alarming balance sheets.

Feeling his neck start to flush with warmth at this latest set of memories, Phillip hastily pulled the coat off. One heavily embroidered arm swung around to brush his groin, which readily awoke from that lightest of caresses. Well, he had already come this far. With a small groan, Phillip pushed aside the rest of his inhibitions. Shrugging off his suspenders, he let his trousers drop to the floor. His shirt quickly followed. A small shiver ran down his spine at the thought of feeling the coat's silken fabric on his bare skin. At the thought of knowing who it belonged to.    

The first time the plush of the coat brushed against his naked inner thigh, a long shudder ran through Phillip's entire body. He rubbed the nap against his length, not quite as smooth as it looked, tempting him with just enough friction to warm the skin. He let out a shaky breath he didn't even realize he was holding and did it again. Backing up to his bed, he fell onto the mattress and closed his eyes, wrapping the coat tightly around his chest as he stroked himself with the ample tail fabric. His imagination continued to bombard him with imagery and sensation: he saw eyes the color of finely aged cognac, crinkled with laughter and buoying his heart; the purring growl of a rich baritone whispered in his ear; the intoxicating scent of cologne -- bergamot, patchouli and amber -- mixed with leather and sweat filled his nostrils. Above all that, binding it all together, the feeling of finally being in the presence of someone who was able to ruthlessly break down his heaviest barriers faster than he could involuntarily continue to throw up more. 

Phillip heard his own rapid breathing, felt the hitch in his breath as he increased the pressure of his grip. An unbearable warmth was pooling in his lower abdomen and all he saw was a haze of cardinal red. He was too close now, could only whimper as his eyes slammed shut again. His body arched and locked, his mind went completely blank. He rasped just one word, "Phin!" and came. 

After he felt able to move again, Phillip gave the coat a quick examination. He was relieved to see that aside from one small pearly drop near the bottom hem, which he diligently wiped clean, it had survived the episode unscathed. It wouldn't show, just like his feelings. Only he would ever know this happened. Carefully, he laid the coat down on the bed and got in beside it. Lying on his side, he fondly stroked the gilt embroidered B with one finger as he finally tumbled into an undreaming slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a coat kink, YOU have a coat kink. And so does Barlyle Discord. And so does Phillip, apparently. Yep.


End file.
